


Bound To These Bones, Until Dust Arise

by D20Owlbear



Series: False Gods [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 666 Fics Fics Fics (Good Omens), 666 ficlets, False Gods AU, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Rated M for the liberties I'm about to take with this source material, Snapshots, South-East Asia setting, The Village gothic, a demon named Haagenti, a single ficlet that grew to a multi-chap, beautiful source material, big spooky fan me, from Callus Ran, growing as we go along, kidnapped angel, overall angsty vibes, rating went up to E for source material, they end up alright though I'm pretty sure, trapped angel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: A series of 666 stories exploring Callus Ran's (ran196242)False Gods AU.Sent down to spread prosperity amongst the humans, Aziraphale is trapped by a village of people who have sourced help from demonic magics. They bound him and are draining him of his power slowly and surely... then Crowley hears tell of such goings-on and he's quickly down to rescue his angel.And after? Well, Crowley has a temple and a village of worshipers of his own, and all the best wine and offerings money can buy in these parts...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: False Gods [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014744
Comments: 36
Kudos: 96
Collections: MoFu Birthdays





	1. The River Valley Village

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callus_Ran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callus_Ran/gifts).
  * Inspired by [False Gods AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/620494) by ran196242. 



Gold is a malleable metal, it generally has no use in useful things like armor or weapons meant to be anything but decorative. It has no place in chains to bind things nor does it have the strength to help moor any ship to a harbor.

Gold is malleable, and therefore an easy metal to carve things into, it has a melting point similar to bronze and is particularly sensitive to lightning, able to carry the shock of it to the other end without succumbing to it. It has its uses as such, but it is prized for its rarity and the difficulty in harvesting it, and is used in currency across many lands as well as signs of wealth and power. Idols of gold passed through generations, polished by many hands and years.

Gold is godly, some might say, and they paint messengers of the divine in gold leaf, they powder the precious metal and turn it to paint to show their devotion, they layer it over rich colors and let it shine in the sunlight to reflect back what might be divinity to unworthy worshippers. And then, they caught divinity itself in it.

A bull with the wings of an eagle called Haagenti came to a certain few in their dreams after the gold painted on their stones caught the eyes of the divine and enticed it to stay. Haagenti taught them in all things, showed them all the kingdoms of the world they might rule over or prosper beyond, if only they listened to his words. And so they did. And so they learned. The price of their learning not to be paid by mortals alone. They etched prayers according to his instructions in their waking hours as if feverish and possessed into golden chains, which had been transmuted by Haagenti in their dreams from tin and un-precious metals, and laid on their bedsides in the mornings.

An angel, a god, a creature so powerful that only the reflection of itself and prayers written into chains of gold wrapped around glorious wings of the purest white could keep it in place. They came to the altar and they laid upon it feasts, all the choicest of things from each of their tables, and every day it seemed they pleased the god less and less, and so every day they layer the chains with more and more prayers etched into the chains until the god bled from it.

The villagers cried with their god, but they knew they could not let it go, for if they did it would leave them, and they would be without divinity once more. There was nothing in their souls that would allow it, there was nothing in them that would calmly let the bright warmth of this god leave, not if they would be abandoned in the darkness once more. But now that they knew the Light of their God, they would know they were blind without it, and that would be true agony.

When there was no more space for prayers on the chains, and the god still bled, they gathered the blood where it pooled. The village wives and girls carried basins until they dripped and overflowed with dark-wine blessing and dipped hand-spun thread as fine as they could make it, soft and like a spider’s thread. Prone to breaking and tearing until it soaked up godsblood.

Then it took on new life, it would not tear no matter how they clawed at it, no knife would cut it before they became dull, no animal might rip it before they tired. And so they layered these things upon their god. They tied them over his arms and legs until they grew so numerous that his ankles and wrists were cuffed together, and when they came to pray and pay homage to their bound god, they held these threads in their hands to beseech their god.

Their fields, their crops, their livestock had never been more bountiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Pictures for this chapter](https://ran196242.tumblr.com/post/611185401280987136)


	2. The Mountain Village

In another village, there was a god. This god was cruel and malicious and the people remained in their homes as soon as the sun disappeared from the horizon. They've had this god in their village, high up in the mountains, for generations and his words are passed down to every child.

Travelers may not stay.

The village by the river is Cursed.

Only a god sacrificed will soothe his temper.

So the villagers urge travelers way from their village if the hissing in the night seems to grow louder and they avoid the village in the valley by the river, and they pray at their shrines for a god who will be worthy to sacrifice to theirs. Their village is prosperous, however. How could they not be, when they pay their god of prosperity in distilled fruits and fermented drinks and blood in their fields—grateful their god has never demanded a life instead of blood?

They live well, they prosper, and they worship at the shrine at the peak of the mountain. There are many altars their god inhabits, but the temple carved into the peak is said to be his favorite, where if one is desperate they can petition him for help. But it is also said he extracts the payments he sees fit for them, from the best of a harvest to news from far off villages to one's very soul. But if one is desperate enough to pay his price, he will surely grant your request.

It happens that one day a man and his wife have a child who will not cease his wailing. No amount of love or comfort will make it end. Twelve nights of crying through the night, and the father journeys to the peak of the mountain to throw his family at the mercy of the great and terrible snake god.

"My god!" He pleads, "Please cause my child to sleep through the night, we cannot continue like this."

"Ah, colic," the god says, and hums to himself in thought.

"Is that an affliction?" The father asks, concerned.

"A curse, of a sort. But I will free you of it, for a price." The god replies. "You must go to the river valley village and tell me of what is occurring there, for there is something hidden from my sight."

The father fell to his knees trembling, but agreed to the price. The god gave him an odd ring of soothing cold to place in the babe's mouth and a blanket of gentle warmth to swaddle the child in.

The child sleeps through the night, the family and their neighbors rejoice, and the next morning the father sets off down the mountain leaving a sad, dignified wife at home. They are trading one curse for another, surely, from child to father, but at least this one was a choice.

The man holds his head high and travels the winding road down the mountain, hidden in places from wanderers or those who would seek to visit the mountain. They were not welcome by the god of their village, so it was easier to hide their roads and make their own journeys to other villages for supplies.

As the sun began to set, two days after he set out from his home village, the father of the colic-cursed son stepped foot into the river-valley village. It was cold and the mist from the wide river put a chill into his bones like the mountain fog never did, and the faces of the villagers were too bright and happy. All of them greeted each other in strange ways, saying "Blessing of a God upon you," hiding something underneath glimmering smiles. The houses were pristine and whitewashed but there were smells of fruit-rot that permeated underneath, half-hidden by spices and perfumes.

The man trembled again, afraid of what this curse might be. But anything was worth his family's ease, and so he looked for what was hidden underneath his god's gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Picture post for this chapter's inspo!](https://ran196242.tumblr.com/post/612121464688263168/huh-i-didnt-know-i-was-going-for-this-au-for-a)
> 
> We're leadin' up to where Crowley can come to Aziraphale's rescue! Thank you _so much_ to Ran, who's amazing to collab with and she's even making a full comic of this!! I can't believe how talented she is, please please please go check out her work, it's so beautiful and the colors and composition and lighting is always just so :hnng: 👌👌👌


	3. Finding What Is Hidden

The messenger of the Snake God had entered the River Valley Village with a wariness deep in his heart. Their blessings from an unnamed, _hidden_ god raised the hair on the back of his neck and the perfection of white-washed buildings and always-smiling villagers hid rot he couldn't seem to find.

They didn't seem to worry about his business or excuses for coming down from the mountain, after all this village had split from theirs nearly 200 years ago for disagreeing with the nature of their god, as if bounty and fertility was worth less than some imagined prosperity and wealth. But, perhaps, it wasn't so imagined.

He spent two days in that village and had been everywhere, except for some secret place all the adults and a few of the older children visited at night. The first sunset he saw them leaving their houses with baskets of food but his door had been locked, so he climbed out the window to follow instead. Watching from a distance he saw the light of candles flicker eerily in a cave mouth and each villager entered and left with dead smiles on their faces.

The smell of rotten fruit was strongest here.

The next day, well before sunset, the messenger set out onto the road, pretending to go back up to the Mountain Village. Instead he snuck around to the cave and lit a torch to delve into its depths. Though the village here had come from the Mountain, this desolate place wasn't meant for his snake god. The walls held murals of a many-winged creature, signs of their new faith.

Threads ran across the floor like trails of blood and they tangled around his feet. Even through his boots, he could feel _Life_ through them and immediately felt refreshed and encouraged. But then he looked up where they led and gasped in horror. He dropped the torch, which rolled and flared briefly before snuffing out with an unnatural sputter.

There, upon a desiccated altar of crumbling stone was a creature that must have been beautiful and powerful once, had inspired awe. But this village had trapped it and raised it up to be a god, bound in chains and blood-red threads. The sight made tears well up in his eyes until his sight blurred in the dark even as he fled the village.

He knew what had been hidden from his god's sight and returned to the village just before the fifth day dawned having raced back up the mountain in a single night, forgoing food and rest. Surely this was an abomination and his god was a vengeful god for all that he gave to his people. The River Valley Village had chosen to forsake their god for a lesser spirit and bound it to their bidding, and the messenger had held up his end of the bargain.

The sun set and the basins were lit with supernatural fires as the messenger knelt before his god and the news of the many-winged "god" was given. The Snake God on his throne held the messenger's child, who had been freed of the colic curse, but quickly grew wrathful at the description of the false god.

"Are you certain? Do not lie to me!" The snake god leaned forward, his voice great and terrible with eyes burning just as his fires did.

Without waiting for an answer to his demand, the god uncoiled from around the base of his throne, the great length of him spread across his temple floor and he rose from his seat of power as if there were some force pulling him away from it, an unseen thread. The child was given back to the terrified father, who had never seen his god so filled with wrath as this, and the Mountain Village shivered in their homes at the roar of their displeased god.

His anger echoed down into the River Valley and the villagers returning to their homes and in their beds trembled.


	4. Avenging a False God

The snake god descended from the mountain's peak to where his village lay, nestled between tall trees and mountain faces and even in his rage he was careful. There was no use in gaining the attention of the village too soon… They had thought to trap him, if their enslavement of the creature was any indication, and he was too clever to fall for such things. He would collect his sword hidden in the heart of the mountain first.

The next night, all the villagers gathered in their hidden cave and trembled in excitement as the snake god came down from the mountain, thinking he had finally accepted their offer. The miracles and prosperity from their own winged god had dried up and the creature was beginning to falter, and the villagers did not like that. They had opened their dreams to demons who inspired them to greed and malice, even as they hardened their hearts to pity and charity, and so they wanted to discard their new god on the altar and regain the bounty of the old, to trap him here in the place of the winged one.

The snake god grew great wings during his descent and when the villagers heard the sound of their flapping they were elated, not knowing of the wrath the god brought with him in his heart. He came bearing a great sword and shouted his rage.

"You fools!" He hissed, clawing his way into the cave, "You think to hide this from _me_!?"

The villagers screamed and cowered as the god they had wanted to trap had not been fooled by their meager planning. And he reared back up to his full height, his black wings spread and only made him look even larger and more dangerous. He loomed over the altar that the false god before him collapsed on, seemingly lifeless even as the blood-red threads tied to him stole his power from him with demonic magics and the golden chains bound his magic within him, so that none would escape the hungry drain of the villager's greed.

"What have you done…" The snake god asked, his eyes glowing like molten gold with his divine wrath, "What have you _done to him_?!"

Before the villager's eyes, he began to change, the snake god's form became bestial and his rage showed on his body. His horns grew and black scales like those of his snake body crept up and grew on his human skin and his teeth elongated into the fangs of a serpent.

"I ssspared you all onsssce, when you fled and forsssook me," the god growled, sounding like little more than a rabid animal, "I will not make that missstake again!" And the simmering spite the god had for his errant worshipers who had fled his village so long ago grew murderous.

His sword was long and sharp and the bodies of the villagers gathered were no match for it, the magic they had stolen from the false god on the altar who had been prepared as a sacrifice to the snake god bounced off the god's scales. His tail swung as a whip and felled the villagers just as surely as his claws and sword did. The cave was painted with blood, and with his own magics, the snake god broke the threads and the chains that had bound the winged god before him.

Legends say that gods are selfish creatures, that they do not care for their worshippers and their blessings are double-edged swords. They say that two gods cannot exist together without conflict.

They are wrong, as stories are often twisted by the teller to fit their audience or their own beliefs.

Humans love to tell stories where their champions are the heroes and they earn their rewards at the end of hardships for their strength of will and kindness.

But not all stories are told in such ways.

Especially not when there is no one to spin the tale any further.


	5. The False God Wakes

The next morning the snake god returned to the mountain village, carrying a creature wrapped in cloth and light. Their god was a jealous god and covetous creature, so when they could not see what the creature was and saw how the blood dripped down their god's skin and filled the grooves of his scales, they did not attempt to look further, nor did they entreat their god with prayers during his vigil over the new creature.

The snake god laid the creature he had taken from the village he left in ruins on piles of the softest silks and pillows inside his temple at the peak of the mountain. And, as gods and snakes are both wont to do, he waited and he watched. The light cracking through the false god's form slowly sealed itself so none of his powers could escape. The creature healed, with some help from the snake god, allowed to sleep and rest.

Morning broke over the mountain village in the third week and the false god woke, covered in clean silks and his robe nowhere in sight. He had been left alone in a large, open room decorated lavishly as the snake god preferred.

"You are awake, Aziraphale." The snake god greeted from the doorway, hidden behind drapes, for he knew this creature was a divine thing as well.

"Who's there?" The false god asked worried, for he did not recognize the voice.

"Your robes are gone, I had to rid you of them to heal you, they were filthy." The snake god said, entering the room, "It pleases me to see you up and well, angel."

"Oh Crowley! You are half sna–" Aziraphale rejoiced, for he _did_ know the snake god, and knew him by name, for they were old companions. Though the look of him was new, Aziraphale would know the snake god anywhere. "You kept the sash, but not my robes?" he asked.

"A… _suggestion_ , to seem more intimidating. And I did not know you had kept it. It has been a long time to treasure something like this." Crowley said.

Aziraphale nodded "It was a gift, from a friend, you see…"

"Ah, I understand. Then you will be happy to know the blood was removed and it is still in good condition."

"Should I say thank you?" Aziraphale replied, and the snake god shook his head.

"Come with me first, put on new robes and wear your sash. You will not thank me soon enough." Crowley said gravely. The false god did as he was bidden and followed Crowley out to the side of the mountain before the temple which overlooked the river valley, and he was shown the rubble there. The smoke and hellish fires that still burned were visible even from here and the decimation of the village below was absolute.

"Why, Crowley?" Aziraphale cried, "You terrible creature!"

"Must you ask?" Crowley replied.

"Of course! How could you dare?!"

"I am a god, Aziraphale," the snake god hissed back, eyes glowing with his mighty wrath even in the light of the early dawn, taking Aziraphale's face in his clawed hands, "And they _hurt_ you…"

The false god who had been trapped by greedy villagers below sighed at the loss of life, for though he was divine he was not a god, and the loss of lives struck him in his heart all the more for it. Gods are callous creatures, prone to selfishness and bouts of capriciousness. Aziraphale was another kind of being, different from a god and kinder, which the snake god remembered now.

"I was doing what I was told… Heaven wanted me to help them. And you, playing god to those unfortunate people!" Aziraphale averted his eyes from Crowley's.

"We are playing the same roles, to them."

"And you use your _godhood_ to condemn them! I'm done playing with lives, Crowley," Aziraphale shouted and then drooped, "I need to go back to report on my failures..." He turned away from Crowley.


	6. A Village Gives Thanks

"Aziraphale, wait!" Crowley shouted as Aziraphale pulled away from him and returned to the temple behind them. Aziraphale touched the silken drapes and the beautiful decorations of the temple and his hands lay on the bowls of offerings; wine and good fruits and the best of the harvests from the tables of the villagers lay untouched where the snake god had ignored them while Aziraphale was healing. 

"They abused your goodness," Crowley said, "And they harmed you for their greed, but it was your power which enabled them and I… am worried that those above you may not see your side."

Crowley allowed him his thoughts for a while, but could not stand to see him upset, and Crowley particularly hated if Aziraphale was upset due to anything Crowley had done. 

"Imagine what they would have done, angel, if they'd caught you." Crowley said, slithering around the false god to wrap him in his coils, "If they had found you drained near dry. If they caught you at your grave and bound to earthly things with demonic magics. It was infested with idol-worshipping, demon dealing pests. You should be glad, Aziraphale. Death was a mercy they didn't deserve..."

But Aziraphale only looked pained at that, and remained unconvinced.

Crowley wrapped around Aziraphale and looked at him, pleading, "Do you remember, angel? They would not have been merciful, not like I was. Death for them might be permanent, but they continue on after, they are not stuck as pillars of salt because of me! And the ones above would take you, they would rip you away with no care for you, and you would be _reprimanded_ and they would think it _your_ fault, angel…"

"I could not let them do that," Crowley whispered, "Not to you, love."

"Do you trust me?" Crowley asked after a brief silence, wrapped around Aziraphale in his temple.

"Of course I do." Aziraphale whispered softly.

"Then stay, with me. There is always a way. Stay with me," The snake god begged, "We'll figure it out together."

Aziraphale faltered in the face of those words and stayed, in the end. He did not try to leave the loops of Crowley's scales.

When the snake god had emerged from the temple, he told the villagers of what he had brought back, what he had saved from the sacrificial altar. The villagers asked many questions of the creature and brought further tribute to the temple to appease he who had gentled their god so easily. Their god told them of his benevolence and his kindness and when they asked about his nature, they were told of a great creature with the heads of a lion and an ox and a pure white falcon. 

Crowley called this creature "angel," and when their god returned to his temple they planned a festival in the honor of his new consort. This angel was surely the very creature who had captured the heart of their terrible god, and they wished him well, for already they knew they would be more prosperous with him in their midst.

The stoneworkers who had made the snakes in the temple started new offerings. The angel was carved from the purest white stone they could find in their mountain to pair with a new snake, massive beside him. Its coils wrapped gently around the angel to support him and reared up behind him, jaws wide in threat for any who might try to threaten the snake god's consort.

And, just like the snake charms they wore for good luck and to invoke the protection of their god, the villagers held charms and small shrine statues of the creature who was once a false god for prosperity and the blessing of a benevolent creature.

Aziraphale remained in the temple atop the mountain, for he was loved by a great and terrible god and the prophecy had come to pass. A false god had been sacrificed to the snake god and the snake god was tamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this we're caught up to the comic up to the end of chapter 3! You can view the comic as it gets posted up on AO3 at the work posted by Callus Ran in the series "False Gods" below, work #1 in that series!
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for reading, and I fully suggest checking out the comic if you haven't already, since it's a story told in a different way, and even though similar things happen, they're different enough to be absolutely worth your while!!


	7. Consummation of Rituals

As Crowley bespelled the village to sleep, Aziraphale was left to his own devices, free to roam amongst the rooms in the temple and to lounge amongst the cushions with food and wine and to bathe as the Romans had in bright pools of heated and chilled waters. His enjoyment of the bathing pools were confined to the hottest of the three, the caldarium, and he took liberties the snake god would surely allow him as consort to spill sweet-smelling oils into the water and bathe himself with the finest soaps on offer. 

As the day drew to its natural end, both the god and his consort became excited, and as Aziraphale stepped from behind the curtains between rooms to reveal himself to the snake god, he smiled.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Crowley," said Aziraphale. Crowley lounged across the many pillows along the low bed and beckoned his consort closer.

"It is worth waiting all the time in the, if it is for you," Crowley replied. 

"I have already bathed, so you must cease showering me in praise." Aziraphale said, stepping closer until he was in easy grasp of the god's snake coils and his clawed hands but there was no fear in him. 

"Come here, sit with me." Crowley pulled at the sash Aziraphale wore, the only thing hiding his nakedness. "Tonight is a ritual, Aziraphale, of great importance."

Aziraphale sat beside the snake god and partook of the wine from his cup and ate of the fruit from his hands, and listened to all the things Crowley told him in rapt delight. Aziraphale knelt before the god he had been sacrificed to, who had spared him any ill fate and instead raised Aziraphale to be his consort and to stay by his side. 

But even beloved consorts pay their tributes. 

Their rituals went long into the night and further still across the nights, and the snake god supped from his consort and was given his ecstasy in return. They lay together and become one, only to separate again so that they may mingle their magics together and wove the threads of their tapestries until their rituals were left satisfied. Their bliss in each other fed the waters of the rivers and blessed the crops in their fields. Prosperity and bounty merged and unmerged in their dances until there was no telling the powers of one god from the other. 

The fires grew dim without wood brought by the villagers to feed it, and dust settled on those who were sustained by their magical slumber in the village, until finally, the sun rose on the seventh day.

The villagers woke to their layers of dust and the sweetness of the river waters and the abundance of their fields and knew their gods were good. Though they had not been struggling with the fruitfulness of their crops, it was by the grace of their capricious god that they had enough through the winter. But now they would not need to ask for the snake god's mercy! Now they would have bountiful storehouses and could allow more lon i and buffalo to live through the winter to grow their herds. 

So, the mountain villagers woke and marvelled at their good fortune, and praised the father of the cursed child who was healed for finding the god in the valley for their snake god to fetch. And they replenished the wine in the temple and stoked the fire in their basins and made more beautiful pillows to show their appreciation of their gods, who they wished to keep happy and generous. 

_A feast!_ The headman stirred up, _A festival!_ He cried, and the rest of the village cheered in their hearts for such a thing, because now they would have a proper one, the kind of festival where no one would have to work except to entertain the children, or perhaps to pour the beer and wine, and they could celebrate their god and his consort. 

**Author's Note:**

> Go see all of Ran's [False Gods AU](https://ran196242.tumblr.com/tagged/false-gods-au/chrono) here!
> 
> And come find me in a couple of places!
> 
> Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
> Tumblr: <https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/>
> 
> All my graphics/photomanips are there plus you can find updates on anything if you send me an ask or message! I also take graphic/banner/emoji requests and writing prompts/requests.


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